


baker's dozen

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, another crumbs and yums ship tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: An age-old but classic question: Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	baker's dozen

**Author's Note:**

> this is that lysinette fic that's been haunting at me to post since forever so alas, here it is, finally

For Annette Fantine Dominic, there is no such thing as “too early for dessert.”

Right after a small meal of scrambled eggs and pancakes stacked with syrup and butter, Annette is ready to enjoy a finishing sweet treat. Once washing up her dishes, she skips to the other side of the kitchen to the pantry, her eyes immediately honing in on the empty glass jar — 

_Empty?!_ Again?!

She exhales angrily as she rushes over, grabbing the jar with both hands and raising it to her face — re-establishing the fact that there is, indeed, no cookies in the jar. Only a scatter of crumbs, smudges of melted chocolate, a smear of oil at the bottom, and the lingering smell of cookies only twelve hours old.

An age-old but classic question: Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?

In fact, who _keeps_ stealing the cookies from the cookie jar?

This isn’t the _first_ time her extra baked goods have gone completely missing. This seems to happen _every single weekend_. After a long work-filled week of chores and studying and tasks around the monastery, Annette often relaxed by baking her favorite treats for herself. Of course, while she absolutely never intends to eat _everything_ she baked on her own, she _also_ doesn’t expect for _all_ her treats to be eaten overnight — quite literally!

And she had _really_ been looking forward to one of her chocolate chip and pecan cookies this morning.

This is the last straw! Annette Fantine Dominic would not stand for this cookie monster any longer!

Or. Well. She at the very least would kindly ask whoever it is to save her a few the next time around.

Who could it ever be?

There is only one way to find out — ask questions.

And Annette Fantine Dominic knows she’s great at getting answers. She, of course, opens her investigations with her very own house members:

Ingrid, ever the foodie, is even more upset about the missing cookies than Annette ever was.

“What?” she mopes. “No, I don’t know anything about missing cookies. And if I ate them, I would have told you how much I love them. I _love_ your baking.”

Felix, ever the stringent, simply glares at her.

“I don’t like sweets,” he reminds, with a scoff. He crosses his arms and looks off to the distance, but then his eyes soften when he looks back at her. “Do you need help making another batch?”

Sylvain, ever the opportunistic, returns her frown.

“Don’t know anything about your cookies,” he admits, but not before long, offers his assistance. “How about I join you next time you make them? Heard things taste better with a little love. We could have some fun together.”

Mercedes, ever the empathetic, raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry about that. You must have been really upset this morning,” she says. “I hope you find your culprit soon! But I’m sure you can forgive them — your cookies _are_ irresistible, you know?”

Dedue, ever the stoic, blinks.

“I did not eat the cookies,” he tells her.

“Oh, no, I definitely don’t think you did,” she reassures him. “You’re the last person I think would eat my cookies. I was just wondering if you had noticed any suspicious trail of crumbs.”

He considers for a moment. “No, I don’t know of any cookie thieves,” he says. “But I’ll keep an eye out for you, though.”

Dimitri, ever the protective, narrows his eyes.

“Cookies?” he asks, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. “Someone took _your cookies_? We must get to the bottom of this!”

His eyes darken, and Annette quickly waves his concern off. “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal!” she says, attempting to mollify the situation. “I-I’ll just make another batch!”

And so alas, after a long morning of investigation, Annette is unable to find a lead among her fellow Blue Lions and thus unable to come closer to her cookie culprit. But she has chores to get to for the rest of the day anyway, so she puts her detective work on hold. She tends the garden, sorts the books in the library, sweeps the hallways, and does the next hundred things on her work queue, deciding to start her last resort plan later that night.

It’s the only one way to find out. If _no one_ had a clue, she’s just going to have to find out on her own.

That evening, Annette zealously flips through her notebook of recipes — all copied carefully and decorated with color highlights — until she lands on the very chocolate chip and pecan cookie she had made the night before.

And tonight, she makes these cookies to the _very best_ of her ability, following her recipe to the gram. (Not a single thing in the kitchen explodes that evening.) At the end, the cookies smell incredible and bake perfectly — with crisp brown edges, small craters of melted chocolate, perfectly chopped nuts throughout the center — and Annette gingerly slips them onto a plate, arranging them in the most appetizing way possible.

Happy with her own work, she clears her throat, discreetly looking to the left and right of her.

“Well then,” she announces, rather loudly, looking at the clock on the wall. “I guess it’s getting so late! I should head up to bed after all!”

With this, Annette ducks away, flipping off the switch in the kitchen and dramatically stomping down the hallway. She turns the corner, then waits a second before retracing her steps — this time with feather soft footsteps. She slips through the crack of the door, then as her eyes re-adjust to the dark, she finds a spot under one of the side tables to hide, carefully folding her limbs into the shadows.

She’s determined to catch this thief cookie-handed, and she’s going to put a stop to the mystery of her disappearing desserts forever.

And so, Annette waits patiently, passing the minutes with sheer will but as a full hour passes, our resolute and steadfast protagonist finds herself with doubt.

This is stupid, she thinks to herself. Maybe she’s overreacting about — 

But _just as she thinks it_ , the door squeaks!

Annette holds her breath, feeling her heart beat in her chest. This is it!

She waits quietly, watching the long shadow of a figure step into the kitchen. Their feet quietly tread their way to the counter — _precisely_ where Annette has left her prized chocolate chip and pecan cookies!

_This is it!_

“And got you!” Annette yells out loud, lifting out from under the table.

A scream! A high-pitched yelp that could only be —

“ _Lysithea?!_ ” Annette exclaims in question.

“Ghost!” Lysithea yelps, stumbling backwards. Her face pales even more than it already is.

“Oh! No! I’m not a ghost!” Annette assures her, quickly scooping her into a hug.

This only serves to frighten Lysithea even more. Lysithea screams again.

Clumsily now, Annette charges for the light switch. “No! Lysithea! It’s me! Annette!”

The light flashes on, and almost immediately, Lysithea consoles herself, calming her demeanor and smoothing out the wrinkles on her clothes.

“Oh, Annette,” Lysithea says, voice now completely moderated. She clasps her hands in front of her, weaving her fingers together neatly. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you!” Annette retorts. “You’re the cookie thief!”

“Cookie thief?”

“ _You’re_ the one that’s been eating all the cookies I make every week!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were just about to eat these cookies!” Annette says, gesturing to the plate of cookies on the counter. “I saw you going for them!”

Lysithea turns her head to look where Annette is pointing, glancing at the cookies for only a moment before returning to Annette. “Those certainly look very delicious, but I don’t like sweets _that_ much to actually eat them,” she says, completely straight-faced.

“I _saw_ you!” Annette repeats, as if saying it again would make Lysithea stop denying it.

Incredibly, it does. Lysithea now mumbles over her words, breaking her facade. “Oh! Well! So what if I did? I couldn’t help it!” she shouts angrily. “They were _so good_ and I _couldn’t stop_ eating them! I’m _really sorry_ about eating all your cookies but it’s not my fault you’re such a good baker!”

Now blubbering, Lysithea continues, her tempo picking up with each sentence.

“And the cookies were spectacular! They were crisp on the edges and gooey on the inside. Your choice of chocolate was divine. Not too bitter, but not too sweet, and it melted in my mouth. And you balanced the textures so well with the roasted nuts — they added a crunch that made your cookies a masterpiece!”

At first, Annette refuses to take the apology. But Lysithea is so genuine and sincere when ranting about her cookies, that Annette almost inevitably finds the tension in her frown lifting.

“Well, you know what,” Annette says, voice lightening. “If you love them so much, then next time just ask me to make a few extra in my batch. A baker’s dozen. And I’ll make them special. Just for you.”

“Huh?” Lysithea cocks her head curiously. “You’re not mad at me?”

A laugh escapes Annette’s lips then. “No,” she giggles, covering her mouth. “I mean, I _was_ mad. Furious, even. But you just looked so cute and adorable when you were talking about how much you loved my cookies.”

Lysithea blushes a brilliant red. She looks off to the side. “I’m not cute _or_ adorable,” she mutters under her breath.

Annette laughs again. “Fine. You aren’t,” she agrees, simply taking the plate of cookies and offering one of the treats to Lysithea. “Truce?”

Lysithea looks at the cookies and half-refuses, but even Annette can see the already broken resolve in Lysithea’s violet eyes. Barely a moment after, Lysithea grumbles an incomprehensible ‘fine’ through her pout, reaching her hand forward for a cookie.

“Thank you,” she says, taking a huge bite.

Annette watches her, fighting a smile. Lysithea looks so cute _and_ adorable, chewing on the sweet as if displeased to eat it.

But Annette knows better than to say it out loud, lest Lysithea get irritated once again for being called such things. So she simply takes a cookie and also indulges herself with her own fresh baked cookies herself, sharing this sweet moment with Lysithea.

And so happily, the two of them eat the entire batch that very same night.

Annette takes extra care to make sure Lysithea gets the last one off the plate.

**Author's Note:**

> i know. the ending was cheesy. sorry.
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep) where you can fully experience my one brain sell in all its glory


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